Untitled Poem

I am neither awake nor dead,

tied up on this bed.

I cannot feel my head, 

they've only given me bread.

I should have known being so well-read,

that my fate had been 'foresaid.

I once fled,

after me he sped.

Since I've been kept in this shed,

feeling sore and unfed.

Nights like these it goes unsaid,

that I'd be better off dead.